


just tighten your shoulders, just clench your jaw til you frown (just don't let go or you may drown)

by lovelyflowersinherhair



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyflowersinherhair/pseuds/lovelyflowersinherhair
Summary: CURRENTLY ON HIATUS“I thought you knew that Fred was investigating the Lodges?”“Why would I know that?” Alice demanded. “Why would you let him do that?”“He volunteered,” he said. “Claimed he’d had prior contact with an agent. We never narrowed down which Agent Adams it was, but…”Unfortunately for Alice, such things lacked in precedence to the immediate problem at hand.Fred was dead.





	1. Chapter 1

The car ride had been awkward, but Alice had managed to navigate it with a slight bit of aplomb, though that was mainly due to Charles electing to go along with her faking sleep, and the awkwardness of her impromptu rescue had been quickly overshadowed by the utter disaster that she felt she had walked into when she had arrived on Elm Street. 

“Oh dear.” Alice cringed at the parking job that whomever had last driven the truck that Fred had owned had done, given that they had entirely overshot the curb and sidewalk entirely, and managed to park it  _ in _ one of her -- well, FP’s -- prize winning rose bushes. “Was that…” 

Charles shook his head. “I thought you knew that Fred was investigating the Lodges?” 

“Why would I know that?” Alice demanded. “Why would you  _ let _ him do that?” 

“He volunteered,” he said. “Claimed he’d had prior contact with an agent. We never narrowed down which Agent Adams it was, but…” 

But Fred was dead, and Alice supposed that a lecture on the FBI essentially letting it happen because they had managed to manipulate the most gullible person on Elm Street could be tabled for the moment, mainly because she was determined not to draw attention to herself with her arrival, and also because she supposed that she didn’t want to antagonize her eldest child. 

Polly had refused to leave the farm.

“It’s fine, Charles,” she said. She was tired. “Thank you for bringing me.” 

“Dad was willing to pick you up--” 

Alice barely resisted rolling her eyes. It was lovely that FP and Charles had gotten to know each other. She wouldn’t deny her son the chance of knowing his father, not after they had been denied knowledge of each other for all those years. 

“No,” she said. “This started and ended with you. I didn’t want your father involved in  _ any _ of this. Or your sister. Or your brother. I certainly can’t stop them from knowing, but I don’t want anything to come down on me.” She pulled her lipstick out from her handbag and reapplied her lipstick. “Thank you for the ride.” 

“Mom--”

“What?” Alice peered at Charles over the top of her sunglasses. “I would like to invite you in, but, well.” She sighed. “This isn’t my house anymore, and I don’t think your presence would be very conducive to Archibald’s healing.” She sighed again. “I’ll call.”

“What do you want me to do about Polly?” 

“Polly?” Alice’s tone was bitter. “The ungrateful brat? She can get bent as far as I’m concerned. But that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is my being there for the children. For Archibald. For what remains of my prizewinning rosebush.” Was that petty of Alice? Perhaps. But, dammit, she’d  _ liked _ the rosebush that was currently one with the front wheel of Fred’s truck.

If there was one thing that Alice was good at, it was compartmentalizing the many parts that the dumpster fire that was her life consisted of into neat little boxes. Polly was an issue that Alice was more than glad to be entirely done with. The children were...the children were out of the hands of the cult, even though Alice did not entirely understand why they were not under Elizabeth -- and thus FP’s -- watchful eyes, but rather being subjected to life with Cheryl and Toni. 

There was the factor of the missing Jason to consider, as well. Alice really didn’t long to wonder what happened to the boy’s corpse, but it had gone missing from the convent, and from where they had settled after they had ‘raptured’. 

Unfortunately for Alice, such things lacked in precedence to the immediate problem at hand. 

She pressed the doorbell (who knew whether or not Archibald was laying in wait with a bat, or something? Not she) and waited for a response, feeling fairly ridiculous about the entire thing. The house on Elm Street had been  _ hers _ for so long, and now it wasn’t. Now it was FP’s. 

Not that she begrudged him the house. 

“Alice.”

“FP.” 

“I would have come and got you--”

“I know,” she allowed, as she followed him into the house, saying nothing as he picked up her bags as they went. “I just figured that you were more needed here. With the kids.” She sighed.

It appeared that her dining room table had been replaced by a pool table in her absence. Alice elected to bite her tongue. 

“He’s in here,” FP said, as he led her into the living room, where Archibald was on the couch, staring blankly into space. “Told the boy and your girl to give him some breathing room.” He sat down. “Sit.” 

“I don’t suppose you want to talk about what happened,” Alice offered softly, as she perched herself on the edge of FP’s couch. It had been quite the surprise for her to be sprung early from the hell that had been the farm, until Charles had had the awkward task of informing her that Fred had had the misfortune of dying. Not that Alice  _ minded _ having been set free of her informant duties -- far from it -- she just wished it hadn’t been at the expense of her longtime neighbor. “Archibald?” 

The boy next door hadn’t said a word to Alice since she had come into the house like she had owned it, and sat down beside an equally silent FP, whom Alice had to admit she was somewhat concerned about, even if she wasn’t speaking with him. The boy deserved precedence, however. 

“Where is your mother?” 

“She’s on her way,” FP supplied, his tone rough. “There weren’t a lot of flights that weren’t fully booked out.” 

Archibald didn’t say a word. 

“Thank you, FP,” she said, her tone one of graciousness. Sure, FP had broken her heart into a thousand pieces, but she supposed in the spirit of forgiveness, she could table her hurt and channel her emotions into something vaguely productive. “Where is your wife?” 

Gladys seemed to be missing in action, much to Alice’s eternal relief, but she remained wary. 

“She’s gone, Alice,” FP said. “I asked her to leave, but, by then, you were gone. Off to that...Edgar bastard.” 

“I hardly think now is the time, FP, given the circumstances.” She jutted her chin in the direction of Archie, who appeared to be attempting to render himself invisible by burying himself underneath a truly unfortunate blanket, in spite of the July heat. “Has he eaten? Where are  _ our _ children?”

“Told them not to worry about me,” Archie mumbled. “Said that I’d be okay.” 

“And they  _ listened _ to you? And  _ you _ let them?” 

“Of course they didn’t listen to him,” FP said. “They barely listened to  _ me _ when I told them that they couldn’t give you the damn third degree when you came home. I told them that they needed to give you space, Alice.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you want to come with me to get Mary?” FP asked. “She had to fly into Jersey.” 

Alice didn’t want to ride in a car with FP to New Jersey, but she wanted to speak to Elizabeth and Jughead about her experience in the cult even less, so she figured that driving to pick up Mary was the least of the two unpleasant options. 

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go with you.” 

She sighed, and she reached over to smooth the blanket over the teenager’s form. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, Archibald,” she told him. “I want you to drink it by the time we come back.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Not my mom.” 

“I’m aware of what I’m not.”

* * *

  
  
  


“Alice--”

“What, FP?” 

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment the  _ entire _ way to New Jersey?” 

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” she said after a moment, and FP bit back a sigh. “I merely don’t understand what you want from me, or why you asked Charles if he could come get me and bring me home.” 

“Do you  _ want _ to go back to the Farm?” FP asked, and he took his eyes off the road to glance in her direction. “Because, Al, if you do, I will bring you there myself--”

“I don’t want that,” she said. “I just--”   
  


“They keep talking about him like he was some sort of saint, you know? Like he wasn’t the person who fucked me over when Jellybean was premature and struggling to get out of the damn NICU and the health insurance he gave us was such  _ shit _ that I had no choice but to go the Serpents to get the money.” 

“I’m--”

“And then Mary and his  _ damn _ sister started in about how I should talk to Red about what it’s like when your dad dies, like I have any  _ fucking _ clue what that’s about--”

“I thought that your father drank himself to death,” Alice interjected. “I seem to recall a popular series of OP-EDs on the subject, during which--”

“I  _ lied _ about Senior, okay? What was I supposed to do? Say that he’d gone missing? Have to put up the front of the  _ damn _ caring son, when as far as I was concerned, he was as good as dead?” FP scrubbed his hand across his face. “All it took for everyone to believe it was that obituary I placed in the Register. I knew that you wouldn’t print it. That you would use it as bait. That you and Hal would get your kicks off trying to kick me when you thought I was down. When  _ he _ thought I was down. I knew you knew better.” 

“Your father kicked you out of the house when you were sixteen, and he told you to go to hell,” she said. “Of course I knew better. That obituary was the most  _ ridiculous _ thing that I had  _ ever _ had seen submitted to the Register, and that included a series of suggested articles about the many uses of  _ local butter _ from Riverdale cows.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even think that Riverdale  _ has _ cows.”

He shook his head. “Mary and Fred must have bought it.” 

“They were always frighteningly naive.” 

“What the hell right would I have to give  _ anyone _ coping advice, anyways? Have you seen how I cope?” 

“I certainly wouldn’t recommend it.” She sighed. “Not that I would recommend how I cope, either.” 

“Maybe we’re both a little fucked up,” he said with a sigh. “I just...I’m sorry, Alice.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that day,” he said after a moment of silence, as he willed the traffic on the highway ahead of them to move forward. He regretted his decision to drive his truck instead of his patrol car. The siren would have been enough to scare them straight. “At my office. When you asked me if I loved you.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And, you don’t have to worry. I won’t be staying with you, in that house. I won’t take your dream away from you out of spite.” 

“Where are you going to go?” 

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but I don’t want you to feel you have to take care of me,” she said. “I’m not...I’m fine, FP.” 

“I don’t care if you stay with us,” FP said. “Your daughter has practically moved in with us, what’s the difference? It ain’t like I’ve been sleeping in the Master--”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping in Hal’s mancave.”

“Sure as hell beat sharing a bed with Gladys.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” she said after a moment. “Do you want me to defend your choices? I never understood why you married  _ her _ of all the people in the world. Of all the Serpents in the world--”

“That makes two of us,” he said. “I sure as  _ hell _ never understood why you married Hal.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” FP could hear the catch in her voice as she spoke. “His parents would only pay for my time in the Sisters if I married him. You were gone, our son was gone -- my mother sure as  _ hell _ didn’t have the money to pay for a stay in there...I did what I needed to do to survive, and I will be  _ damned _ if I apologize for making the choice to survive over what? There was nothing for me on the Southside anymore. What should I have done? Gone to your father?” She scoffed. “At least giving Harold what he was owed from me gave me an air of legitimacy.” 

“What he owed from you?” 

“Don’t be foolish, FP. There are things a husband expects of his wife, especially when she’s a Serpent Slut.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t have an answer for you,” FP said, his tone honest. He kept his hand on her knee, surprised when she covered it with hers. He did his best not to let it show. “I wish I did, Al. I wish that I had had some sort of answer for you, some sort of explanation that makes sense. I wish that I could look Red in the eyes and tell him that his dad didn’t die for no reason. I wish that there was some sense to make out of this, Al, because I sure as fuck have no idea how the hell do make heads or tails of it.” He cleared his throat, inching the truck forward as the traffic cleared slightly. “To tell you the truth, I always though that, of the two of us, it would be me. I would say the wrong thing to the wrong person and I would take the fall and you’d be burying me in a pine box to the tune of a decade’s worth of articles dedicated to how stupid I was.”

“Things that a husband expects of his wife? What the hell are you talking about, Alice?” 

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Alice glanced over at him, and he noticed that she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, if not longer. “What the hell do you think he made me do? My ‘marital duties’, so to speak.” She sighed. “The things that a wife is meant to provide to the marriage, FP.” 

“He  _ raped _ you?” 

“Do you really think that the semantics mattered? It’s fine, FP. I knew what I needed to do to be a good wife. Enjoying myself would have been a sin.” 

“Alice, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“And have things be my word against Hal’s? Do you have any idea how that would have gone? You know perfectly well what people think of people like us, Forsythe. We’re Southsiders. He was a Cooper.”

“You could have told me.”

“What would you have done?” Alice demanded. “You could barely help yourself. I couldn’t expect you to fix my problems.” She shook her head. “You asked what I meant, and I told you. Do we really need to discuss this any further?” 

“Al…”

She drew in a breath. “Hal is dead, FP. He can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t need you to dredge up old memories I have done my best to avoid thinking about for no reason at all. What good does talking about them do? Especially now? Fred is dead and it’s all my fault.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Maybe he wouldn’t have agreed to help the Feds bring a case against the Lodges if I had been  _ honest _ about the fact that I was an informant,” she said, her tone clipped, though there was an edge to her voice. “Maybe he would have seen sense and stayed here in Riverdale, where he would have been safe. If I hadn’t pretended to be brainwashed, he might still be here. Instead he’s  _ dead _ and I  _ killed _ him, FP.” 

“Fred would have gone anyway,” FP said after a moment. “You know he would have. Whether it was to prove that Hermione was innocent, or to prove to you that he could handle being an informant on his own, he would have gone to them. Even if it was just to help the town.” He sighed. “And, Al, you were an informant. You  _ couldn’t _ have told him.”

“You don’t think I know that? I regret my decisions  _ every _ day, FP. Polly wants nothing to do with me, Elizabeth is shacking up with the Lodge girl because her best friend tried to have her lobotomized, and for what? I knew that Polly wasn’t going to come home, FP. I wanted to spend time with our son. I didn’t care what the cost was. I just wanted to see him, even if it meant that it was only so he could  _ use _ me as an informant.” FP was pretty sure that Alice was crying. “Now that that’s done, what’s the point of anything? Fred is dead, Charles doesn’t need me anymore, and I’m all alone.”

“You’re not all alone, Al,” he said, and he reached out to squeeze her knee. “If Polly would rather be in a cult than come home to her family, that’s on her, not you. Betty isn’t living with the Lodge girl. I’m letting her stay with me.” 

He wasn’t sure if that admittance would horrify or appease Alice, but she was crying in earnest now, and he really didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t known what to do when they were kids in the trailer park, and he sure as hell didn’t know what to do now. Age had done nothing to beget wisdom, not in FP’s case, at least. 

“Did Charles tell you that he didn’t need you?” FP forced himself to ask. He didn’t care if Charles was their son, and an FBI agent, he was going to have a hard time keeping his cool around him if he had told Alice that the only use he had for her was as his informant. “Alice?” 

“He didn’t have to,” she said. “I’ve outlived my usefulness. I know that. I made the choice to go home.”

“I don’t think that you’ve outlived--” He drew in a deep breath. “I think that maybe you need to take some time to decompress,” he said. “And process the fact that you’re not bound by the farm anymore. And then, I think that you should call Charles. Once you’re on a more...even emotional keel.” 

The traffic ahead showed no signs of letting up. “Why didn’t you let me take the cruiser? I could have put on the lights.” 

“Where would Mary have sat?” Alice asked him. “In the backseat? Were you going to cuff her?” There was a ghost of a smile on her face. “I just don’t understand any of this,” she added. “It just seems so pointless.” 

“What seems pointless?” 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Everything? You don’t expect people our age to just die, do you? It was fine when it was Harold,” she said, and he heard her sigh. “He was a worthless serial killer. He ruined my daughters’ lives. And mine. I still didn’t want him to be shot in cold blood. In front of Elizabeth.” 

“But Fred? What point was there in that? God’s just going around killing everyone now? Decent people that wanted to do the right thing, even when it was unpopular, or no one else understood?”

“I don’t have an answer for you,” FP said, his tone honest. He kept his hand on her knee, surprised when she covered it with hers. He did his best not to let it show. “I wish I did, Al. I wish that I had had some sort of answer for you, some sort of explanation that makes sense. I wish that I could look Red in the eyes and tell him that his dad didn’t die for no reason. I wish that there was some sense to make out of this, Al, because I sure as  _ fuck _ have no idea how the hell do make heads or tails of it.” He cleared his throat, inching the truck forward as the traffic cleared slightly. “To tell you the truth, I always though that, of the two of us, it would be me. I would say the wrong thing to the wrong person and I would take the fall and you’d be burying me in a pine box to the tune of a decade’s worth of articles dedicated to how stupid I was.” 

“Two decades worth,” she said. “A good reporter is always prepared.”

He managed a chuckle. “You would have milked me for that long?” 

“Depending on what you did, yes. Perhaps the town could have learned from your mistakes.” 

“That’s just your cover story. Admit it. You would have missed me.”

“Of course I would have missed you,” she whispered. “I know this is hard to believe, FP, but, I do care about you. Even when the circumstances made me appear not to.” 

“You were right, you know.” 

“About?” 

“Gladys. She was only in town to use me. She realized that I wouldn’t realize she was the one behind the damn drug trade and that she was the reason Jellybean was in danger, at least, not until it was too late.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t give a shit about the fact that her idiocy almost cost me my job, and got me shot. Barely gave a shit about the kids. I should have arrested her.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t want...I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to have her get arrested and then start running her damn mouth and get me locked up, too. Jughead and Jellybean have been through enough. I fucked them up so badly. I don’t even know they ended up as normal as they did.” 

“No one’s perfect--”

“Fred was--”

“No, not even Fred. Fred wasn’t infallible. He made mistakes. It’s okay to make mistakes, FP.”

* * *

  
  


“I thought my mother told you to drink that,” Betty said, as she watched Archie lift the glass that was on the coffee table, clearly at an angle to pour it into the plant beside him. “First of all, Archie, that plant is a fake. If you water it, my mom will know. Second of all, she’s not wrong. You need to drink that water.” 

“I don’t want to,” Archie muttered, though he returned the glass to the table. “If I drink that water, it means that your mom really came back from the farm. That means that my dad is really dead.” 

Betty bit back a sigh. “Archie--”

“At least it was Betty’s mom that came back,” Jughead chimed in. “She’s at least useful in a crisis. If it was  _ my _ mother, she’d probably suggest you join her drug running enterprise as a way to cope with your loss.”

“That’s not funny, Jughead. What if JB heard you?”   
  


“Where did Dad and your mom go?” 

“They went to get my mom from the airport,” Archie supplied. “I hope that she just tells them it’s a big joke. And things go back to normal.”

“Archie--”

“What?” He demanded. “It could happen.”

“I suppose,” Betty said, and she sat down beside him, motioning for Jughead to join her. “I just feel that it’s not a very likely outlook.” 

“Why? He’s my dad.” 

“Dads die, Archie,” she said, and she took his hand in hers. “I don’t want to be harsh, but that’s a fact that I know full well.” She sighed. “I wish that I could tell you that it was all a joke, but, if it  _ was _ a joke, it seems like a particularly cruel one to make.” 

Archie scowled, and he brought the glass of water to his lips and took a sip. 

“He said that he would come back,” he said, after he swallowed. “He just needed to do some people a favor, but, he would be back.” 

“I know that he did--”

“Why did he lie to me?” 

Betty sighed. “I don’t think he lied to you,” she said. “Or, rather, I don’t think that it was intended as a lie. I just think that something happened while he was gone, Archie, and he passed away. He didn’t do it out of any sort of ill-intent. Things like this just happen.” 

“Your dad died,” he spat. “Wasn’t that enough? How many people have to die in this town?” 

Betty forced herself to remember that Archie had just suffered a loss, and that she didn’t need to take what he said personally, even though the comment did sting. 

“There isn’t a quota on death, Archie,” Jughead insisted on saying. Betty dug her nails into her palms. “Sometimes you need to think before you speak--”

The doorbell rang, mercifully allowing Betty to draw her attention away from what was sure to be a debacle that she had not asked for to be held on her behalf, and she slipped off the couch and padded over to the entranceway. It was possible that Mrs. Andrews and Mr. Jones had gotten their wires crossed, wasn’t it? Maybe Mary had gotten on the Metro North home? Stranger things had happened. 

Or, of course, she couldn’t be so lucky, and the unwelcome visitor was Kevin. 

Kevin and Mr. Keller stood on the front porch, flanked on either side by Josie and the former Mayor McCoy. 

“Is there something that you need?” Betty glared at Kevin, before she smiled brightly at Josie. “I suppose you came to see Archie. He and Jughead are in the living room.” 

She stepped aside, allowing Josie and her mother to enter the home. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Kevin dared to ask. 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Betty demanded. “You brought me to have a  _ lobotomy _ because you joined a cult, Kevin, and you have never bothered to offer me a single word of apology.” 

“What is she talking about?” Mr. Keller asked. Kevin had turned an impressive shade of white. “Kevin?” 

“Nothing, Dad. You know Betty’s just upset that she wasn’t invited into our little social circle.”

“You didn’t hear about Kevin’s time at the farm, Mr. Keller?” Betty asked, and she gazed at him with wide eyes. “How he donated his kidney to his cult leader’s wife? How he dragged me bodily to where a lobotomy was going to be performed on me? No? How interesting.” 

“I had no idea--”

“She was the one who didn’t want help!”   
  


“Because I didn’t need help!” Betty said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care what bullshit Edgar fed you. If Archie’s dad hadn’t just died I would be giving you a piece of my damn mind. As it is, I’m not sure if I want you around.” 

“You let Josie--”   
  


“Josie won’t try to manipulate Archie like I’m afraid you will. God knows what you’d convince him to do.”

“I think that you and I should go home and have a talk, Kevin,” Mr. Keller said. “It seems to me that you’ve misinterpreted your time at the farm when you speak to Sierra and me about it.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--”

“If what Betty says is true, son, we need to have a long, involved, conversation.” 

* * *

  
  


Alice felt herself waking up slowly, and she felt herself start to panic inwardly when she realized that she was curled up against a man’s body. She had been very careful to never be physically intimate with Edgar. The thought had grossed her out. She was horrified by the fact that it appeared to have happened anyways. Still, she tried to remain calm.

“Hey, Al?” 

She forced herself to open her eyes at the sound of FP’s voice, relieved that he was the one she had fallen asleep on. The humility of having done so was less than the panic she’d felt at the thought of being asleep around Edgar. 

“Jonesy?” She burrowed herself closer to him, her hand curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“Much as I appreciate this,” he said. “And as much as I’d love to let you continue using me as a pillow, we’re at the airport.” 

The reminder of why they were together sobered Alice enough to wake her fully, and she sat up with a shot, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” 

“I drooled on your shirt!”   
  


“Not the most frightening body fluid the shirt’s seen,” he offered. “It’s okay, Al. You looked peaceful.” 

FP’s statement did little to comfort Alice. She bit back a groan. Sleeping in a car at her age had done her little favors. 

“We should go inside,” she said after a moment. “Surely there’s some hideously unhealthy concoction that the airport considers food to be found in here?”

“What? Like a Cinnabon?” 

Alice wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if there’s a Cinnabon at the airport,” she said after a moment. “Is that really what you want?”

“You said some ‘hideously unhealthy concoction’,” he said, and he smirked. “I was just thinking about what that might consist of.”

“I want a burger,” she admitted. “I can’t remember the last time I had a burger.” 

“I’ll get you a burger, if that’s what you want,” he offered. “My treat.” 

Alice wanted to protest. She had more than enough money to buy herself a burger. But she knew that being able to afford to buy her a burger probably meant a great deal to FP. Being able to afford splurges in general probably meant a great deal to FP. So, she nodded. 

“Will you buy me onion rings, too?” 

“I’ll buy you whatever you want, Al.” 

She drew in a deep breath. “I forgive you,” she said. “I know that you just wanted to do what was best for your kids. I can’t begrudge you that. I’ve done it myself more times than I can count.” 

“Do you think we can be okay?” 

She nodded. “I think so,” she said. “I hope so. I just want to make things right with Elizabeth. She’s who I’m worried about.” 

“Just talk to her,” he said. “Probably goes a long way. Talking to your kid.” He sighed. “You don’t seriously want to wear that top out in public, do you?” 

Alice glanced down at the shirt she was wearing. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“Alice. It makes you look knocked up. The only reason I don’t think you are is because I know what your breasts look like.” 

“I’m not pregnant, FP. I would have told you.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s not the most flattering look on you. You want to borrow a flannel?” 

“Do you have one for me that you wish to spare?” 

“Yeah,” FP said, and he leaned over her to the seat beside her, and plucked a balled up flannel off the floor of the truck. “This’ll do, yeah? It’s clean.” 

“Okay.” 

Alice had long stopped being the fearless girl who had paraded around the southside in a lace bralet and bike shorts, and she briefly hesitated, holding the garment in her hands. She didn’t know if she wanted FP to see her in a state of undress. It had been fine when they were in bed together -- Alice was even willing to let him leave the lights on -- but this felt entirely different to her. There was nothing to hide how unattractive having two -- three -- children had left her. Harold had always made that very clear, even though he claimed that he had worshipped her whenever they fought. 

But, FP wasn’t Hal. 

“I was wondering,” she said, as she tugged at the hem of the offending blouse, and lifted it over her head, not caring where it landed. “Do you think you could...redo my ink for me? Maybe give me some new pieces?” 

“You know I won’t say no to that,” he said. “I’m more than willing to give you a private session.” He quirked a grin at her. “What did you have in mind?” 

“I’m not sure yet. You can surprise me.” She slipped the flannel on and buttoned it up with a quickness that she didn’t know she possessed. “When things settle down, okay? We can pick out some designs.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“What?”

“It’s not like anyone could see you, Al. You changed like you were on fire.” 

“I don’t--I’m not the girl I used to be, Jonesy.” She drew in a deep breath. “I had kids, my body changed, I don’t want you to look at me and think that I’m inadequate.” 

“I don’t think that,” he said. “I think you’re damn hot. I know that Hal, and, shit, probably Edgar--”

“It wasn’t like that with Edgar. I made it clear from the start with him.”

“Yeah, well, Hal was full of shit,” he told her. “I don’t care if you don’t have abs that could crack glass anymore. I like you, Al. The you you are now. You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”

“I don’t?”   
  


“No, Al, you don’t.” 

Alice knew that it was impulsive of her. Fred was dead. Hal had been murdered. The ink hadn’t even dried on FP and Gladys’s divorce papers. She had recently left a cult. Perhaps her decision to kiss FP in the airport garage wasn’t one made of soundness. She really didn’t care. FP made her feel things. She needed to feel. 

Her lips met his, and she felt his hands come up into her hair, the motions of his fingers massaging her scalp made her let out a purr. He tasted like coffee and menthols, and on anyone else that would have bothered her, but on FP, it made her feel like she was home. 

“That was nice.”

“I never answered your question, Al. When you asked if I loved you?”

“You don’t have to answer that. It’s fine.” 

“I do love you, Alice. And it’s been killing me. Being apart from you. I don’t want to go through this ever again.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mary portrays herself as this innocent person who happens to be in situations such as this, or such as her husband getting shot, or someone who happens to have the ability to take time off when her husband is running for Mayor,” he said, and he tugged off the shirt he’d been wearing and tossed it in the hamper as he spoke. “Like she’s some damn saint who has to care for all of the sinners. Or appear as if she’s doing so, anyways.”

FP had accidentally booked Mary into a first class flight, and she had spent the time in the air in a drug induced slumber, thanks to the free cocktails that first class had provided her, and a handful of sleeping pills. Perhaps it wasn’t the safest combination -- Mary knew full well that it wasn’t -- but what  _ was _ the proper response to one’s sort-of-ex-husband being found dead? It wasn’t a subject that Mary felt comfortable thinking about. 

She wished that she had pushed through the divorce when she’d had the chance, when Fred had come out to Chicago, and they’d met with solicitors, and had  _ almost _ dissolved their marriage, but then Archie had called Fred and Fred’s guilt had prevailed and they had decided to maintain the status quo. It was a decision that she regretted. 

She hated Riverdale. 

She hated everything that it stood for. How it had held Fred back from achieving his full potential, and how he had never seemed to care.

If Archie thought that he was staying in Riverdale, he had another thing coming. She was still annoyed that FP hadn’t done as she’d told him to do, and flown him out. 

Fred had been the one who had been friends with FP. Hadn’t cared that he was from the wrong side of the tracks, hadn’t cared that his wife was nosing around Fred’s own brother and causing Frank to behave in even worse patterns than he’d done before. Maybe it had been wrong to insist that he fired FP after he’d rejoined that gang, but she had been trying to build her practice. No one would have come to someone whose husband owned a business with a Serpent. 

She’d assumed that Jughead and Archie’s relationship would come to an end.

Instead, it seemed that the opposite had happened.

Mary bit back a sigh. 

It wasn’t that she  _ hated _ people from the Southside. It was just that Mary felt that Fred’s associations with people who called the Southside home had been the cause of the majority of his problems in life, and Fred had felt that there was nothing wrong with that sort of people, and he didn’t care that they were from the wrong side of the tracks, and couldn’t she just walk a mile in their shoes? 

It had been a major sticking point in their marriage. 

She still thought that it was his association with the Southside that had gotten him shot, and in debt to the Lodges. Maybe she was partly to blame. She’d never told him about the money that she’d saved for Archie, and she’d never suggested that she could cover some of the bills, but that was because she was angry. Angry that it had been expected of her to come and stick around. Angry that Jughead was mad that she hadn’t been FP’s lawyer. 

Mary had assumed that Jughead would have been better off. 

How was she supposed to have known that he was going to end up the Sheriff? 

She supposed it didn’t matter. Archie would be coming back to Chicago with her. She didn’t care what he thought.

She disembarked the plane and headed into the airport, more than a bit annoyed when she spotted FP, with his arm around Alice Cooper. 

Mary could have dealt with FP. He was Fred’s friend. She’d learned to tolerate him.

But Alice? Hah.

Alice had been a thorn in her side when they were teenagers and the blonde hadn’t liked that Mary had justified opinions about the Southside of town, and the little gang that she’d run with, and Alice had continued to be a thorn in her side when Fred had insisted that they raise Archie in his childhood home, after Virginia had moved down South. 

Mary had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with her. 

She crossed the concourse with a purpose, and dragged her suitcase off the conveyer belt, before she deigned to acknowledge the people who had come to get her. To say she was unamused was putting it mildly. 

“FP,” she said. “I didn’t know you had plans with Alice. This is why I told you to let Archibald come get me.”

“That would have been irresponsible,” he said. She squinted at him. “Having Archie drive all the way out here? After he found out his father died? He’d have been unfit to drive to the corner store.” 

Mary pursed her lips. “You’d be intimately familiar with that,” she muttered, her voice low. 

“What did you say?” Alice asked. Mary watched her grip FP’s hand. “Mary?” 

“Nothing. Just that I trust FP’s judgment, that’s all.” 

“That’s a refreshing change.” 

“Al--”

“What? I’m merely stating that I find Mary’s change in attitude to be refreshing.” 

Mary watched as Alice smiled up at FP, and she managed to bite back the sigh that was threatening to erupt. 

“Look, Mary,” FP said. “I get that you don’t want to be here. I get that you don’t like me--”   
  


“You’re Fred’s best friend,” she said, almost automatically. “Just because we have a few tiny differences doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.” 

“Uh, right,” he said. “Anyways. Alice and I are here for you, and for Archie. And we’ll continue to be there during the investigation. I want to offer you the Sheriff’s department’s support as well.” 

“What investigation?” 

“People don’t just drop dead and not have it be investigated, Mary,” Alice informed her. “There’s going to be an investigation. An inquiry. And of course, as Fred’s wife, you’ll probably be questioned in depth.” 

“We weren’t married--”

“That’s not what your marriage license states,” she said, her eyes wide. “You know those pesky Feds. They won’t care about a non-legal separation. As far as they’re concerned, you left because you couldn’t find work. Plenty of people work in separate areas.”

“Alice, I swear to you, if you’re making that up--”

“She’s not,” FP said. “Fred’s death is under Federal investigation. You’re probably one of the suspects. You’re his wife, after all.”   
  


“We were estranged!” Mary exploded. She didn’t care that people were staring. “We were only still together because he insisted that Archie couldn’t handle it if we got a divorce!”

“Do you blame Archibald for that?” Alice asked. “You left without a goodbye, Mary. Didn’t contact him for years, and then you showed up in town on Fred’s arm and did ludicrous things like go to  _ Homecoming _ with him and Hermione, before swanning back to Chicago and only returning when you thought it made you look good.”

“You did that?” 

“Of course I did,” she said. “That’s what a divorce means, FP. Surely you know that?”

“I never did that,” he said. “Gladys may have taken Jellybean but I tried my damn best to be her damn dad. I never  _ once _ thought that because she lived in Toledo I should just not make any effort at all.” 

Mary drew in a deep breath. “I made my decisions, FP. Archie picked his father and that godforsaken town over me. What gives you the right to judge me?”

“Are you serious?” Alice demanded. “You can’t figure out why what you did is worthy of judgment? Do you even hear yourself speak?”

“That’s rich,” she said. “Coming from someone who was married to a serial killer.”

“Oh, grow up, Mary. Yes, I was married to a serial killer. I’m not the one who didn’t speak to my son for years because he wanted to stay with his dad and his friends and not move to the murder capital of the United States.”

“No, you didn’t speak to your son because you and Hal disagreed on how he should have been handled.” 

“What did you say to me?” 

“Al--”

“No, FP, I want to hear Mary explain to me how she knows about our son, since I sure as hell didn’t tell her. Why would I when everything she hears is used for her own selfish gain?”

“I said that you have no right to judge me for my decisions when you knew that your son was living in an orphanage, Alice.”

“I didn’t,” she hissed. “I thought he had been put up for adoption. How did you find that little tidbit out, pray tell?”

“Hal told me,” she said, after a moment. “Why does it matter, anyways?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alice said. “I think that it would be best if we just went home. What do you think, FP?” Mary watched as she slipped her arms around him. “Jonesy?”

“You’re a goddamned bitch,” FP said, his tone low. “How dare you say those things about Charles? Like he’s a fun fact on a damn popsicle stick? He’s our son, Mary! How would you feel if I started telling everyone your dirty little secrets like I was discussing the weather? Huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “You damn sure will. Come on, Al. Let’s get this over with.” 

* * *

  
  


“You didn’t have to lie,” Alice said to FP as she sat on the foot of the bed, her legs tucked under her. “Earlier today.”

“What are you talking about, Alice?” 

FP was still annoyed about the debacle that had been obtaining Mary at the airport, and he was entirely grateful that Alice had gone with them, partly so that there had been a witness in the car with them, and mainly because he suspected that the long drive there had caused them both to open up. He had not a damn clue what Alice was talking about when she mentioned lying, however. 

“When you said that you knew Mary’s dirty little secrets and would be more than willing to throw them around,” she elaborated. 

“Oh,” he said. “That wasn’t a lie.” 

“What?” 

“Mary portrays herself as this innocent person who happens to be in situations such as this, or such as her husband getting shot, or someone who happens to have the ability to take time off when her husband is running for Mayor,” he said, and he tugged off the shirt he’d been wearing and tossed it in the hamper as he spoke. “Like she’s some damn saint who has to care for all of the sinners. Or appear as if she’s doing so, anyways.” 

“I’m still trying to work out how Fred’s wife was a lawyer and yet he ended up indebted to Hiram Lodge for those medical bills,” she said. “Doesn’t that seem strange to you?” 

“She wouldn’t pay,” he said. “He told me that she said that their finances were separate now that they were on the path to divorce. It sounded like a lot of bullshit to me. I mean. I threw everything away when Jellybelly was sick and in the hospital,” he said, as he unbuckled his belt and shucked off the jeans he had worn, leaving him in just his boxers. He didn’t really care, though. He was with Alice. “The thought of having that kind of money and not even bothering to help at all? That doesn’t sit right with me.” 

He climbed onto the bed and patted the spot beside him, pleased when she obliged. 

“Mary has always thought she was better than Fred,” Alice told him. “Oh, sure, Fred and I had our differences, but I never thought he was a bad person. A person who made bad decisions, yes. But we all make mistakes. Mary made it clear from the start that she did not want to be living in Riverdale. That she was angry that Frank had ran the business into the ground and angry that Fred had decided that the solution was to go back to Riverdale and try to make things right, even though that was who Fred was. You remember in high school, FP? He put his guitar in hock to try to make things right for his mother when his father died.” 

“She was hoping that the business would fold entirely,” FP said. “And Fred didn’t want that to happen so I used some of the money that I got from the Army to try to build a bridge between what was owed and what money was to be found.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It was never my intention to work with him,” he said. “But Gladys and I needed the money, I needed a job. I thought that working with Fred was my chance to get things right.”

He drew in a breath. “She was fucking his brother,” he said. “I didn’t care about that. Figured it was none of my business. Fred was my friend but I wasn’t going to get involved with his relationship with his wife. I had the boy to worry about and Gladys was pregnant again.” 

Alice nodded. “With Jellybean, I remember.” 

“Gladys came to me and she told me that she’d made a mistake,” he said. “That she’d gotten in over her head and that she’d tried to stop things but that she didn’t know how to. I thought she was talking out of her ass,” he said. “And then the baby came early and whatever she’d had to tell me, that didn’t matter anymore. Jellybean was what mattered to me.” He shook his head. “I guess she’d told Mary that she’d seen the two of them together in a state of disrepair,” he said. “Mary thought that we were going to tell Fred, so she told Fred that Frank was fucking my wife. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t, but Fred took it personally. He was hurt that I might have known and not said anything. Maybe he was concerned that Jelly was Frank’s, I’m not sure. I never asked.”

“Is--”

“No,” he said. “She’s mine.” He sighed. “Wouldn’t have mattered to me, anyways.” 

“I know, Jonesy,” Alice said. He felt her tuck herself against him. “I know that it wouldn’t have.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“It just--I never understood why Fred was fine with how she behaved,” he said. “I would have never just let my son not have contact with his mother. I didn’t want the boy talking to Gladys but she was his mother. I didn’t want to stand in his way of them having a relationship. And I tried my best to maintain one with Jelly.”   
  


“I know.”

“And she thinks that it’s fine. That she can just come in and be his mom like she has any idea what to do.”

“I know, Jonesy.” 

“It’s not fine,” he said. “I think it’s bullshit.”


End file.
